If Only
by Mylaea
Summary: A single ficlet. As Snape lies on the battlefield, wounded and close to death, he realizes a few things that may be worse than death.


Harry Potter is property of Jo Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Scholastic.  
  
"We are known only as we present ourselves, and know others only as they present themselves." - Angela M. Saunders  
  
~*~  
  
I feel the gritty mud scraping the side of my face as the cold rain splashes down on me. My eyes stare unblinkingly across the desolate field. Lightning flashes and the thunder's vibration irritates the gaping hole in my abdomen. I slowly raise my hands in front of my face and see the sorrowful brown of mud mixed with the regretful red of blood. I can see my fallen comrades around me, either writhing in pain, calling for their mothers or wives from the grave they lie in or being chillingly still, which is somehow worse to see than the tortured corpses moaning in agony.  
  
I have pictured my death a million times in my mind, always it ends in the war against Voldemort. I know I will be remembered with spite or forgotten. But now that I am actually moments from leaving this planet, I can't help but feel pain, such a pain it momentarily blocks the hurt from my torso. Why did I have to be so cruel to every human I came in contact with? How could I let myself hold on to such bitter feelings over something I had been forgiven for? Why could I not get up like the dog I am and move on?  
  
What I would not give to be able to take it all back. My eyes blur as I realize how I've wasted my life. I thought I was punishing only myself by pushing everyone away from me, but I was hurting them too. A howl escapes my throat as regrets and memories haunt me. If only I could undo it all, if only I could have told everyone that helped me, that cared for me how grateful I am...  
  
If only I could have told her that I loved her instead of being too afraid to take a chance. I wasted too much of my time being scared. If I live, the first thing I will do is tell her I love her, I have loved her since the first time I saw her. Lightning flashes again and my eyes fall on my wand, lying a few feet from me. If I can reach it, I can perform simple healing spells that might be enough to save me. I move my arm and try to ignore the blinding pain slicing through me. I feel hope surge through me as my hand hovers over it, then falls a millimeter too short. My fingertips brush the smooth wood, but I cannot bring it any closer to me.  
  
My vision begins to blur as another warm wave of blood spews forth from my wound. I cough, and can taste the bitter liquid in my mouth.  
  
In the middle of the black and brown field of death before me, an angel rises. Her pure, white-clad form stands out from the bloody, wet, filthy gore all around her. It is her.  
  
My head is now cradled in her lap, and I can feel her delicate fingers stroking the side of my face. Her eyes are filled with tears, and I cannot bear to think that my disgusting form is making her sad. I move my hands so she will not see the product of my evisceration. I feel no pain now, and I am moments away from leaving forever. I cannot help but smile at the fact that I am dying in her arms, her perfect arms. I must tell her, I must tell her, I must tell her. I must tell her how she had saved my life, how she rescued me from the brink of insanity and the brink of self-destruction, how I was not worthy of her kindness or her beautiful smile.  
  
Her smile. I want to see her smile just once more before I go, that special smile that makes me feel human, the smile that saved my life before, even if it can't save it now. Please, let me see your smile, beautiful angel. Let me rest in peace. My dying wish.  
  
"I love you," I say. Her eyes still search mine, as if she didn't hear me.  
  
Again. "I love you." Can't she hear me? I must tell her, she must know.  
  
My vocal cords aren't working. My lips are moving, but there is no sound. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? I must tell her. I must...  
  
The darkness around the edges of my eyesight advance, closer to the center, prowling like jungle creatures on the hunt. I must tell her. All my energy leaves me, as if someone pulled a plug and let everything drain out. I must tell her. The darkness almost completely has me in its icy claws. I must tell her.  
  
I see everything I remember about her flash in front of me, like a Muggle movie. I must tell her. Her jiggling her foot during exams. I must tell her. Her hair tucked behind her ear as she made a potion. I must tell her. The flash in her eyes as she endures verbal abuse. I must tell her. Her lips set in firm determination to make me understand her feelings for me. I must tell her. The tears in her eyes after I refused to believe she was serious. I must tell her.  
  
I love you, Hermione Leah Granger.  
  
My muscles give an involuntary jerk as my soul is ripped from its vessel.  
  
I love you always and forever. 


End file.
